


wearing your heart on your sleeve leaves you vulnerable to theft

by brosura



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Meet-Cute, Shenanigans & Tomfoolery, Theft, cameos from Gladio and Aranea, meet ugly, more like, when a boy picks ur pocket but makes off with ur heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brosura/pseuds/brosura
Summary: Noctis washopingfor a relaxing visit to Lestallum for this year's Assassin's Festival.Unfortunately, a very cute local has other plans for him.And his valuables.





	wearing your heart on your sleeve leaves you vulnerable to theft

**Author's Note:**

> hello this takes place in an au where everything is A-OK no empire, no problem! nice!
> 
> written for @lusethxii as a request that i CLuNg TO and completed just for valentine's day because what better way to celebrate this day of ~~clever marketing~~ romance than a story about prompto robbing noctis in a back alley! also, special thanks to my pals pika and robyn for the pre-read!!!
> 
> anyway, enjoy!!

_He should have kept the watch on._

That’s all he can think as he sucks in heaving breaths, feet pounding against the dusty pavement of this forgotten alley. _Sure, it was hot. Sure, his wrist had been starting to chafe against the dark metal of the thing in the blistering heat of the Lestallum summer. But he should have kept the_ fucking _watch on._

Or maybe not. Maybe it wouldn’t have helped anyway. After all, the guy he’s chasing - the guy who stole his _fucking_ watch from his _fucking_ pocket - seemed like he knew what he was doing.

For all Noctis knows, the guy could have taken a watch right off of some idiot’s wrist, probably could have gotten away with pickpocketing Noctis without him noticing.

It’s just that Noctis had _noticed_ him.

A shock of golden blonde hair shoved under a well-worn baseball cap. A bare, freckled shoulder brushing his own in the narrow alley. A soft, shy voice muttering, _“Sorry about that.”_ Blue eyes flicking down and away.

Noctis had found it cute, had found something about those blue eyes charming.

He can’t say he still thinks the same thing now as they glint with a vicious kind of delight as the thief runs _backward_ away from him as if it was nothing.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, buddy,” he says with a tone and grin sharper than the ones Noctis had gotten from him earlier. He ducks easily around a corner. “It’s like you don’t actually want this stuff back!”

“I _do!”_ Noctis manages to grate out in response, but it’s hard to over each gasping breath he takes.

“Then chase me like you mean it!” the thief says with a wink and a little finger gun, then he spins around and doubles his pace.

For a brief moment, Noctis considers warping. His back is starting to hurt, his thigh starting to strain, and he’s starting to get that desperate.

But the thought of being discovered - namely, discovered and then _hounded_ by the press and other unsavory characters looking to see what the prince of Lucis was doing this far from home - is enough of a deterrent. That, and he just knows he’ll never be allowed back here if word gets out.

And he _likes_ Lestallum.

Lestallum is one of the only cities that’s both far enough from the Crown City for Noctis to enjoy relative anonymity and familiar enough as one of the Amicitia household’s frequent haunts that his guard felt comfortable letting him explore on his own.

Unfortunately, Lestallum is also a maze. And he was also an idiot who thought the best way to explore the city was travelling alone, pockets bared, through its quieter parts.

And here he is.  

“Give it back!” he tries again, voice cracking with the strain of desperation and the near mile he must have run by now.

“Give what back?” the thief calls, spinning a bit mid-run. His hands fold behind his back. Coyly. _Mockingly._

“The watch!” Noctis shouts. He wants to explain it to the thief, wants to just _tell_ him that it’s important, that it was a gift from his father for his fifteenth birthday, that he’ll even pay him for it, just give it back _please._ But again, he’s running and he’s not used to running for this long, so he only manages, _“Please.”_

“Say pretty please!” the thief teases, dangling the watch from the hand he’s made into a peace sign. A _mockery_ of a peace sign, since there’s clearly no peace to be had here. “With a cherry on top!”

“Are you twelve?!” Noctis squeaks.

“Oh, close one buddy!” the thief laughs. “In the ballpark, but missed the mark by eight years.”

 _“So you’re four,”_ Noctis wants to deadpan even as he’s mentally noting that the thief is the same age as him. But in his frustration and exhaustion, all he can manage is, “How are you not tired?!”

“I do a lot of running!” The thief gives him another vicious grin. “And I take it _you_ don’t!”

It’s such a small insult compared to the other things the thief has done to him, but it’s like the first spray of water through a crack in the dam. Noctis yells, the sound of it fueled by the pent-up rage of the last few minutes, and charges forward with what little energy he has.

“Oops, got him mad,” the thief notes, off-handed and amused, then spins back around to run like a regular person.

Which is unfortunate for Noctis, because he’s _much_ faster than a regular person like this and Noct’s momentary boost in speed peters out as the thief dashes farther ahead. Noctis fears for a moment that he’s going to get away. If he’s going to be honest, he’s feared that from the beginning.

But he sees his silver lining as the thief skids to a stop. Even from this far behind him, Noctis can hear the sounds of cars blaring past the mouth of the alley.

It’s the main road.

And this is a dead end.

He musters the strength to speed up one last time, tries to ignore the screaming ache of his muscles and just _book it_ towards the now-trapped thief. And he’s so _close_ , too. He must be just a few more seconds of running away when there’s a roaring that reverberates throughout the alley.

A red motorcycle, loud in both sound and personality, screeches to a stop in front of the thief, who swings a leg over the thing to sit behind whoever is driving it. The motorcycle roars to life and speeds away just as Noctis manages to get within arm’s reach, leaving him alone at the mouth of the alley.

To add insult to injury, as Noctis leans against the dirty wall and gasps in heaving breaths, the thief turns back and gives him a patronizing salute. His hat flies off with the action, landing in a dusty heap just a few feet away from where Noctis stands.

Just to be spiteful, Noctis takes it.

* * *

 

“I can give you his description,” Noctis says to the local security officer lazily filling out a report in front of him, but _mostly_ eating a sandwich. “I can give it to you _exactly.”_

“Listen, kid,” the guy says around him a mouthful. _I’m your prince,_ Noctis wants to say. He doesn’t. “This is a busy time of year. That, er, _Assassin’s Festival_ or whatever, is in town for the next week or so. Big event, brings in a ton of people -”

“A hundred thousand,” Noctis corrects before he can help himself.

“What?”

“It brings in a hundred thousand people,” Noctis stutters out, crossing his arms to avoid facing the warmth rising in his cheeks. “Roughly.”  

And he’d been _excited_ to be one of those hundred thousand people, roughly. This...incident was certainly putting a damper on that enthusiasm, though.

“A hundred thousand people,” the officer deadpans, before going for another bite of his sandwich. “And a hundred reports of pickpocketing and petty theft. Look, I’ll have a guy take your description, but just, don’t expect much.”

An hour and a half later finds Noctis tired and disoriented after a session with a sketch artist that Noctis was too polite to say was doing a bad job of drawing his watch thief. That, and Noctis severely underestimated his ability to give a description of the thief without sounding like he had a crush on him.

Which he _didn’t._

Either way, the only person he can complain to is Gladio, who’s waiting outside the station with a skewer of meat from some local vendor.

“No luck?” Gladio says with a raised eyebrow. Noctis raises one in turn. “I mean, I can see it in your face.”

“Yeah,” Noctis sighs. “No luck.”

“Thought you said you had a description?”

“I _did,”_ Noctis grumbles, remembering the awkwardness that was navigating which adjectives to use that wouldn’t make him sound desperate in the wrong kind of way. “But the guy I talked to made it sound like they weren’t even going to _try_ to find him.”

“Then _we’ll_ just have to try,” Gladio says with a reassuring grin and a slap on the back. “But you know, this would all be way easier if we just told Ignis.”

“No way,” is Noct’s immediate response.

It was hard enough knowing he’d lost his favorite watch to some opportunistic thief.

It would be even harder if _Ignis_ knew that. Ignis, who had warned him about this specific scenario happening when he’d dashed off to explore the city unsupervised. And no amount of mental preparation can ready him for the power and longevity of an Ignis brand _“I told you so.”_

“Fine, then,” Gladio says with a knowing smirk. “So, what does your pickpocket look like?”

“Er,” Noctis stutters, trying his hardest to mentally prepare for this ordeal for the third time in one day. “He was, er, like, my height. Young. Said he was my age actually. Blond. B-blue eyes.”

“Eyes, huh?” Gladio smirks and Noctis braces himself because he knows Gladio knows. “Most people don’t notice the eyes on first impressions, _especially_ don’t remember ‘em. Must have been… striking.”

“I mean, blue eyes aren’t that common,” Noctis tries to justify. “And _whatever_ dude, he was picking my pocket. He got _close.”_

“Close, huh?” Gladio’s tone is especially shit-eating this time around. “So, what else did you notice while he was _close.”_

Noctis shoves him for good measure before saying, “He had freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.”

He immediately regrets it.

“Freckles, huh? You think he was cute or something?” Gladio snorts.

“No!” Noctis lies. Well, half-lies. He’s _very_ pissed at the pickpocket, but for a minute when they’d met - if brushing by each other in a cramped alley could be considered meeting - he hadn’t been. And well, that happened to be the minute he could recall the easiest. “I told you! He was close!”

“Fine, fine,” Gladio says, but Noctis can tell by the upward quirk of his lips that he’s never going to let this go. “So, what was he wearing?”

“A tank top,” Noctis grumbles. “Red. Sweats, I think? Or cargo pants. They were grey. And a- Oh!”

The memory hits Noctis suddenly and all at once and he fishes in his pockets for the baseball cap the thief had lost that he’d picked up out of spite. He can’t believe he’d almost forgotten he had it. When he produces it, it’s a little wrinkled and bent from his pockets, a little dusty from the road, but it’s the same well-worn cap, yellow and red with some faded-out patch on the front.

He turns it around in his hands, not sure what he’s looking for, but finds something, anyway.

“Pr-Prom?” Noctis struggles to read the letters hastily sewn into the inner rim of the cap.

“Ah,” an unfamiliar voice cuts in. Noctis blinks up to find a man giving them a sympathetic smile. “If you don’t mind me interrupting, sounds like you folks had an encounter with Prompto.”

“Yeah?” Gladio answers for him. “He known around these parts?”

“Oh, sure,” the man says. “Known him since he was a boy. Runs with a little gang of pickpockets that targets rich-looking tourists passing through from time to time.”

“And you’ve never reported him for that?” Noctis blurts, frustration making the words into almost a growl.

“Why would we?” the man answers with a nervous grin. “Money comes back to the town either way.”

“Ugh, fine,” Noctis grumbles. “He took something important to me. I’m not going to get him in trouble or whatever, I just… want it back. So _please,_ tell me where I can find him.”

“Well, I _could,”_ the man trails off. He pinches his fingers together and gives them a conspiratorial look and Noctis realizes in that moment that he would definitely put _‘fleecing strangers for important information’_ a rung below _‘pickpocketing a random passerby’_ on the scumbag ladder.

Noctis grumbles but reaches for his wallet anyway, only to find that his _wallet is fucking missing._

“Fuck,” Noctis hisses.

Gladio gives him a raised eyebrow that’s half-question, half-understanding, and shoves him back gently by one shoulder.

“Right,” Gladio says, tone deceptively amicable, as he reaches for his pocket. “This good enough for ya?”

The guy seems to think the promise of a set of bronze knuckles is _just_ good enough.

* * *

 

“You know,” Gladio says as they wait at the door to the junk shop in town that the stranger had pointed them towards. “If this guy has your wallet, that’s gonna be a problem.”

“I know,” Noctis manages to spit out under the pressure of this kind of failure. His watch was bad enough, but his wallet was just the icing on the shit-cake.

“Money aside, if your _ID_ is in there-”

“I _know,”_ Noctis sighs, shoulders slumping.

Luckily, Noctis is saved from more of Gladio’s nagging by someone opening the door.

Only that “someone” has got a frown so sharp Noctis can feel it cut through nearly all of his near non-existent self-confidence.

“Read the sign,” the woman says, her cold grey eyes flicking up and down the two of them in a way that makes Noctis feel _highly_ judged. “We’re closed.”

“I, er-” Noctis chokes and sputters, and gives Gladio what must be a desperate look.

In his defense, she’s wearing what appears to be _leather_ in the sticky heat of Lestallum and seems perfectly poised and comfortable. Noctis never stood a chance.

Gladio, though, seems unfazed as he puts on another of those amicable smiles - this one just bordering on flirtatious - and says, “Don’t mean to bother you, miss, er-”

“Aranea,” the woman answers his search for a name with an annoyed huff of air.

Gladio adjusts tactics near immediately and there’s none of that flirtatiousness from earlier when he continues with, “Aranea, right. Don’t mean to waste your time, but my friend here’s missing something and he was hoping he might be able to find it in this shop.”

“We aren’t a lost and found,” the woman scoffs, cold and even. Her brows furrow together and her eyes flick over them once more. “So _get lost.”_

She doesn’t get a chance to shut the door in their faces before Gladio stops her with one big arm in the frame, but she looks like she might try if the words that are about to leave Gladio’s lips aren’t _exactly_ the right tone, the right order, the right composition.

Noctis gulps and cuts in before either of them gets the chance to act, “I-it’s a watch.”

“He speaks,” Aranea deadpans, but she _does_ look less eager to close the door on Gladio’s arm.

“I-it’s a watch my dad gave me, and I-” Noctis stammers and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I just want it back. We heard the guy who took it - this, this Prompto guy - we heard he comes here sometimes.” Noctis manages to look at her when he mentions the thief by name, and notes just a flicker of carefully concealed recognition at the sound of it. “I’m not- He’s not in trouble, I won’t bring him in. I just- it’s important to me. If you can help, if you could even just tell him I want it back, we could- I could try to arrange something.”

Noctis flinches as he says it - he doesn’t have his wallet and he doubts Gladio’s little trick of implicit threats will work with Aranea - but he doesn’t see many other options. If he has to, he’ll borrow money from one of his guard. That still leaves the problem of his wallet, but it’d at least _feel_ a little better if he got his watch back. Sure, his ID would be out there, some of his money gone, maybe he couldn’t come back to this city, but at least he’d have all those memories back.

He’d still be able to see that glimmer of satisfied warmth in his father’s eyes whenever he wore it. He’d still have that.

“Awful bold of you,” Aranea starts, but she’s less cold as she says it. “Coming here with accusations right off the bat.”

“Sorry,” Noctis murmurs, but he’s not sure why. Accusations were _right._ He was _robbed._

“Well, accusations are right. I know the kid you’re looking for,” she says with a half-hearted shrug. “Don’t need to arrange anything, I know where he’ll be.”

“R-really?!” Noctis feels himself brighten, then curses. It’s too easy. “Wait, how can I tr- I mean, why would you even tell me?”

Aranea shrugs once more.

“You don’t seem like a bad kid, and whatever Prompto stole seems awful precious for you to have come this far to find it. Ain’t his policy to take things like that, only things that won’t be missed and aren’t hard to replace. It was an honest mistake.” Noctis scoffs, and curses himself as Aranea pauses to fix him with that same icy look from before. “And y’know pretty boy, I find out anything’s happened to him? I come _straight_ for you.”

“R-right,” Noctis stutters. He blinks to Gladio for reassurance only to find Gladio giving Aranea an uncertain look that is the closest thing Gladio has to _‘sheer panic’_ in his repertoire. “R-right, sure.”

Aranea’s smirk is particularly vicious as she says, “Good, glad we’re all in understanding here.”

“Right,” Noctis gulps. “So, where can I find him?”

* * *

 

 _“Unbelievable,”_ Noctis grumbles, mostly for the sake of grumbling.

Because apparently, the supposedly reformed thief - _Prompto_ \- had only been back on his sticky-fingered bullshit to last-minute fund a trip to the Assassin’s Festival.

The Assassin’s Festival that Noctis was here for.

The Assassin’s Festival that Noctis was here and _was robbed_ for, in more ways than one.

The Assassin’s Festival that Noctis can barely enjoy because he is here, in his painstakingly crafted cosplay, to scour the game booths for his thief instead of experience them for himself.

He just wasn’t going to be able to enjoy the _one thing_ he came for, was he?

He pulls the hood closer to his face, convinced that Prompto will somehow see him first and run before Noctis even has the chance to spot him. Well, if Prompto runs, Noctis doesn’t have a chance either way. Still, he must look unnaturally suspicious in his Assassin’s garb, head darting about, lingering but never staying at any one place.

So he’s surprised that he _does_ find Prompto before Prompto can spot him, though Noctis is sure that’s because Prompto is wholly focused on the carnival game he had likely spent Noct’s money to play.

 _“Your best bet’s at anything that makes you aim,”_ Aranea had said. _“He likes a challenge.”_

And sure enough, there he is, toy rifle up to his cheek as he fires pellet after pellet into a row of empty brown bottles.

It’s… not a bad look on him.

He’s clearly confident here, clearly in his element in a much more revealing version of the Assassin’s garb Noctis was wearing himself. His lips quirk slightly upwards, his brow furrows just slightly in concentration but nothing like distress. And when Noctis hears the telltale clatter of a stack of glass bottles collapsing, Prompto’s blue eyes light up and that bright, pleased smile stretches across his face, drawing Noct’s attention back to the brush of freckles over the bridge of his nose.

So it’s definitely not a bad look on him.

Only, the last time Noctis had seen it, Prompto had been taunting him with something _very_ important.

 _“You,”_ Noctis hisses when he manages to overcome that moment of stunned silence and _definitely_ not admiration.

And Prompto turns to the sound. He blinks at Noctis and freezes, eyes going wide with surprise.

But to Noct’s surprise, he doesn’t run. Instead, he gives Noctis a nervous, wobbly smile and puts the toy gun back on the counter to hold both hands in the air in surrender.

Noctis takes a step forward.

Prompto takes a step back.

“H-hey, wh-what a coincidence! Seeing you here, and all,” Prompto stutters out, arms still in the air.

Noctis takes a step forward.

Prompto takes a step back.

 _“Yeah,”_ Noctis growls, and he takes a second step as he watches Prompto flinch back at the sound of it. _“What a coincidence.”_

“L-look, I can explain,” Prompto starts, but Noctis has had enough.

He stomps forward, watching Prompto retreat - backwards, arms still up in surrender - in response until they’re in another one of Lestallum’s _stupid_ quiet alleys. He waits until they’re far enough down the alley that the din of the crowd is a steady murmur and not an overwhelming buzz before he closes the distance between them as quick as he can before Prompto has time to react.

“Where’s my watch?” Noctis growls again as he leans to pin Prompto against the wall with a forearm against his chest, his frustration just barely managing to help him ignore the fact that he’s now _very_ close to the thief.

“H-hey, hey,” Prompto stutters. His hands are still up and at his sides, but there’s a distinct panic in his eyes now that Noctis has got him trapped. “C’mon, I said I can explain!”

“Then _get talking.”_

“Ok, ok!” He gulps. “So, I stole your watch-”

“Yeah,” Noctis spits around a hard laugh. “Yeah, you stole my watch.”

Prompto winces. His hands fall to start rummaging through his robes. “Look, I just- I was being stupid, ok? I wanted, well, it’s gonna sound stupid but I wanted to go to the Assassin’s Festival this year. But like, all out, y’know? Costumes, prizes, everything!”

Something in Prompto’s eyes lights up as he says this, even as he searches through his robes with an anxious energy, and Noctis can understand that. He’d wanted as much himself. And it wasn’t just that the Assassin’s Festival only happened every other year. It was the principle of the thing, that he got to just revel in something he enjoyed just for the sake of it, just this once.

“It’s just, this was my first one, and all. Tried to stay honest for it, too,” Prompto laughs something almost bitter to himself. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Prompto raises his hand and a glint of light catches Noct’s eye. He pulls back, unpinning Prompto from the wall, and blinks at the sight before him.

“Lucky for you,” Prompto says, with an apologetic smile and his _watch._ “My old habits were _almost_ dead, your highness.”

And Noctis is so relieved to see it after everything that he snatches it back from Prompto’s hand before the last part of the sentence can sink in.

When it does - all at once as he’s strapping it back onto his wrist - the relief fades to panic that he suppresses the best he can to ask Prompto in as cool a tone as he can muster, “So, you found out, huh?”

“Yeah,” Prompto laughs, this one a little less nervous. “Hard not to, with your name written on it and everything.” Prompto blinks at him and seems to notice the anxiety bubbling just under Noct’s stoic front. He holds up his hands in mock surrender for the second time that night. “Er, don’t worry about like- er, your secret’s safe with me, your highness! I mean, it’s not like the way I found out who you were would make me a reputable source or whatever, anyway.”

 _“Sure,_ I believe that,” Noctis says, narrowing his eyes.

“No, really, I mean it!” Prompto insists with a grin and a slap on his shoulder in a way that is decidedly irreverent for someone who now knows they’re in the presence of royalty. “Like, what would I even say? ‘Hey everyone, found out the prince is visiting the Assassin’s Festival this year! How? Oh, I pickpocketed him! Y’know, like treason!’”

Noctis scowls and the downward turn of his lips is mirrored in the grimace on Prompto’s face.

“Er, it’s not, right?” Prompto laughs again, too shaky to be casual. Noctis can see his nervous gulp in the bob of his throat. “It’s not, like- oh man, am I about to get busted for treason right now?”

Prompto’s tone implies that he believes he _might,_ but he maintains that shaky grin throughout despite the nervous energy in the tightness of his eyes. It’s such a change from the first time they’d interacted, from even just a moment ago, when Prompto had been perfectly happy getting chummy with someone he’d openly admitted to pickpocketing from, someone who he’d also openly admitted to knowing was _royalty._

And Noctis isn’t sure why, but this is what coaxes a laugh from him. It’s not even much of a laugh, just an amused huff of air, but it’s the softest he’s sounded around Prompto so far, and he can tell by the way Prompto relaxes, his shaky grin smoothing into something genuine, that he’s happy with the development.

“It’s not,” Noctis says, trying to keep his tone that level of detached cold he’s somehow managed to maintain throughout this exchange. It’s almost working. “You won’t get dragged out of here or anything. Your, er, _friend_ Aranea made it very clear there’d be... consequences if you faced any consequences yourself.”

“Phew! Thank you, Aranea!” Prompto laughs with a little pump of his fists. It’s not cute. It’s not. He gives Noctis another of those sly half-grins. “Y’know, she was the one who, ah, _picked me up_ that day. The motorcyclist?”

“Seriously?!” Noctis groans, more annoyed than anything that an accomplice to all this managed to intimidate him. Apparently, he’s just that easy to fool.

And this time, when Prompto laughs that easy laugh, Noctis _notices_ again. The freckles over his cheeks, the way his no longer shaky smile reaches the blue of his eyes. And he notices when Prompto’s brows furrow slightly, his expression surprisingly easy to read for someone who apparently used to pick pockets as a hobby.  

“Seriously,” he says, with an apologetic quirk of the lips. “And seriously? I’m sorry about stealing from you. It’s, er, well. I should have listened to my conscience from the beginning. But, well, I knew I fucked up when I saw that your name was written on that watch there.”

“‘Cause you saw that I was the prince?” Noctis says with a snort.

“No, not that!” Prompto blurts, and he seems genuinely panicked that Noctis might have that impression of him. “It’s just, I have a lot of, er, _experience_ with these kinds of things. And when people write their names on things it usually means it’s something they don’t want to lose.”

He gives Noctis a nervous laugh and his eyes dart down to examine his hands and it looks… oddly _sincere_ for someone who just admitted to having stolen from unknown multitudes of people. Noctis reaches into his back pocket and fishes out the hat he’d picked up off the ground. He runs his thumb over the _Prompto_ hastily sewn into the back of the cap.

“How about an exchange then?” Noctis offers, holding out the cap. “You gave me back my watch, so I’ll return this to you.”

And he’s surprised at how immediately Prompto lights up at the sight of the cap with how faded and worn it is. But he gets it. Sometimes, it’s not the obvious things that are important to people. Sometimes, it’s something like a watch, or something like a cap.

“Dude,” Prompto breathes, snatching it from his hands. “I thought I’d lost this guy forever!”

Noctis lets out a hard laugh. “Imagine that, but with a custom designer watch.”

Prompto chokes, and his grin is a little more sheepish when he says, “Well, definitely glad I didn’t sell it, then. And glad to have this back.”

And the nervous energy fades away quick as he fiddles with the cap in his hands, dusting it off. And the look in his eyes is so warm and pleased that Noctis finds, against all odds, it’s hard to be mad anymore. Not with his watch on his wrist and his pickpocket in his sights.

He finds, against all odds, he wants this moment to last longer.

“W-well, since that’s sorted,” he manages, grateful that his hood keeps the hot flush he can feel creeping up his neck from being exposed. “You, er, said you wanted to go to the Assassin’s Festival, right? And I mean, we’re here, right? So, er, wanna go?”

Prompto sucks in an exaggerated gasp, hand going to his chest. “Does his highness truly offer to escort _me,_ a simple commoner, through this fair of wonders?”

“A simple _thief,”_ Noctis corrects with a pointed glare. “And you know what? Nevermind.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Prompto laughs and slaps him on the shoulder again. “The Festival is way more fun with someone to enjoy it with!”

“Fine,” he grumbles, but there’s nothing behind it and he doesn’t try to hide the small smile that’s been coaxed out of him. “Well, lead the way. You’re the local here.”

“It’d be my honor, your highness,” Prompto says with a deep bow.

And to his surprise, Prompto leads the way. With a warm hand on his wrist. He’s glad he still has the hood on.

“Er,” Noctis stutters in a manner befitting the title Prompto had just addressed him by. “You, er, you can just call me Noct, you know.”

Prompto turns to him with a grin so bright Noctis forgets where they’re going for a minute. “And you can call me Prompto! Unless you’ve already gotten used to _‘thief.’_ ”

“I can adjust,” Noctis shrugs, averting his eyes. It’s only once he’s looking away from Prompto and his bright, warm smile that he manages to recall the exact circumstances that led them here.

“Wait,” he starts, realization dawning on him as Prompto continues to drag him by the wrist. “If you didn't sell my watch, how were you able to pay the entrance fee to the Festival?”

“Oh,” Prompto says, and that confident, sly smile stretches across his face again. Noctis can barely admire it, though, because in a split second he produces a _very_ familiar wallet. “The money in your wallet was enough.”

Prompto releases his wrist with the first hint of a frustrated growl from Noctis, and he dodges Noct’s swipe at him with practiced grace. He can’t resist the urge to chase after him and attempt a second grab for his wallet, but he immediately realizes his mistake as Prompto spins out of his grasp again and starts bouncing backward down the alley.

 _“Not again,”_ Noctis groans, but starts to give chase anyway. “Not _again,_ Prompto!”

“Aw, come on!” Prompto grins, already gaining some distance between them. “Think of it as a Festival warm up, Noct!”

Noctis groans again, just so Prompto is sure that he’s not enjoying this, and starts to run after him. To his horror, Prompto spins on his heel with another mischievous laugh and starts darting down the alley.

“Gonna have to move that princely ass faster there, your highness!” he calls over his shoulder.

Noctis curses at both himself and Prompto, curses at having to go through this a second time even as the bright echoes of Prompto’s laughter fill him with something like a playful excitement instead of the dread from before. He picks up his pace.

In hindsight, he really should have stretched before this.

**Author's Note:**

> after this, noctis and prompto start dating and when noctis visits prompto in lestallum, prompto picks his pockets as a greeting and running joke. the natural payoff of a set up like this is that one day, noctis shows up and prompto picks his pocket and finds an engagement ring
> 
> -prompto voice- well, your father and i met when i robbed him for everything he had in a back alley  
> -noctis voice- he picked my pockets but made away with my heart
> 
> anyway!!! if you liked the read, feel free to leave a comment, some kudos, or hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bigkatsanctuary) or give me a [lil yell](http://brosura.tumblr.com/ask) on [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/)!


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